Tony/Jarvis. NC-17. ~3000 words. Sorta masturbation, sorta self-cest, sorta really not.This was the next logical step in the evolution of Iron Man, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been dying to do it for years. It was one hell of a good excuse though.

–

“Sir, I strongly advise-”

“Look, I already know what you advise, and the word you were looking for is ‘annoyingly’. You annoyingly advise.” Wriggling deeper into the mound of blankets, pillows and cushions heaped on the floor, Tony gave the thick group of wires lashed to his arm with medical tape one last glance over. He’d started out on the couch, but before Jarvis could bitch about the 58% chance of giving himself a concussion, tumbled the whole works down. He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. “Rock ‘n roll, Jarvis. Begin upload.”

“Sir-”

Eyes still closed, Tony aimed a finger at the display hovering two feet above his face. “If the next word you say isn’t yes, I’m putting you on mute. Permanently.”

“You would miss me, sir.”

“Damn right I would. Now shut up and begin upload.”

The light seeping through Tony’s eyelids flickered as the low-grade hum of power flowing through the garage climbed to a steady mechanical whine. He breathed in again, nice and slow, his damaged heart giving an excited flutter. This was the next logical step in the evolution of Iron Man, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been dying to do it for years. It was one hell of a good excuse though.

A dull throb like the beginnings of a migraine started up at the base of Tony’s skull. He rolled his shoulders and focused on the soft brush of fleece blanket against his bare back, the weight of the wires resting against his neck and the tiny bit of warmth seeping through their insulation. “Talk to me, Jarvis.”

“Partition 67% complete. Beginning reformat in twenty-eight seconds. You appear to be in some discomfort.”

“Teeny bit,” Tony said, rubbing his tongue against the dry roof of his mouth. “It’s my first time for this, too.”

“Even knowing this is true, sir, I still find it difficult to believe. 79%.”

Something a lot like an ice pick started jabbing at the back of Tony’s left eyeball. He curled both hands into tight fists and said, “Ow.”

Yes, sir. I know. Perhaps if you concentrated on formulas.”

“You’re way worse at this than I thought. Tell me I’m pretty and it feels so good.”

“Your ego requires little encouragement, sir. This would be much easier if you’d taken a sedative.”

“Jarvis, I had no idea you were into that sort of thing. Also, Jesus Christ.” Tony licked the sweat from his upper lip. The guy with the ice pick gave one last shot at busting a hole through his skull before Freddy showed up, razor blades dipped in gasoline scraping all along his nerves like a cat playing with a scratching post. He twisted onto his side, tears gathering with the sweat dampening the hair at his temples. Breathing was like trying to deepthroat a bonfire.

“Sir,”, Jarvis said, calm voice picking its way carefully through the minefield in his head, “Sir, one hundred and twenty-seven seconds to completion. Abort?”

“Keep goin’,” Tony rasped, not sure if actual words made it out through the clench of his throat or not.

“Heart rate unstable. Commencing emergency override.”

Grinding his teeth, Tony rolled onto his back. “Cancel override,” he grit out, groping at the air until he felt the familiar electric tingle of his fingers passing through the holo display. “You are the shittiest boyfriend ever. Hold my hand and keep going.”

“You have an alarming habit of demanding the impossible. Heart failure at 78% probability.”

Tony cracked an eye open and stared at the blurry strings of data flashing by. Those really weren’t great odds. Maybe he should’ve installed that failsafe he’d been tinkering with. He did as much stupid shit sober as he did drunk.

At forty-six, Tony’s throat locked up. By forty, he could feel blood trickling from the gouges his nails had dug into his palms but not the wounds themselves. Around thirty-five, or maybe thirty, the little black squiggles nibbling at the edges of his vision swelled to a tidal wave. He seriously considered taking Jarvis’s hazily-heard advice to black out right then and there, but the countdown hit twenty, then fifteen, and he knew he was writhing on the floor like a worm stuck on a hook, but when he managed a glance down all he saw was the quick rise and fall of the arc reactor buried in his chest. When the string snapped, the black rushed up in a wave of pure physical relief that brought fresh tears to his eyes.

“Upload complete. Sir?”

“Quick question,” Tony said, panic nipping at what felt like the smoking ruin of his brain, “why can’t I move my legs?”

“Because I am holding you down, sir. Motor functions will be restored in eleven point five seconds.”

“‘Kay,” Tony mumbled, really working on getting that panic roped in so he could concentrate on the important stuff, like Jarvis holding him down.

“Yes,” Jarvis said, “you would fixate on that.”

“S’why you said it. Are you done yet?”

“Scan complete,” Jarvis announced, three seconds overdue by Tony’s count. “You appear to have sustained minor abrasions and are slightly dehydrated. Might I suggest water over whiskey, sir?”

“Sure. Doesn’t mean I’m going to drink it, but suggest away.” The giddy feeling in the pit of Tony’s stomach, that weird sideways twist that set his nerves to tingling, felt strange without a way to let it out. He was okay with being a fidgeter. It was all part of the process. “How about you take me for a little walk, sweetheart? Or are we going to start out with scratching my nose?”

“Ah, there it is, Jarvis said. “The temptation to mute.”

“Gagging me is reserved for kinky sex games. Up and at ‘em, Jarvis.” Impatiently, Tony tried wiggling his right foot. Watching nothing happen was one part bizarre and two parts thrilling. He’d been looking so fucking forward to this.

“So I see, sir. Though the gel provided excellent biosensory feedback, this is a far superior method of integration. With your permission?”

“Granted, as long as you quit talking about doing something and just do it.” Even more bizarre than watching his body not respond when he was trying to tell it to get a move on was watching his hand stretch out to touch the display when he wasn’t. His arm passed right through it, the spiderweb brush of sensation lifting the hairs on his arm as it moved back down, his fingers sweeping along the curve of his jaw in a gently cautious caress. “You and your baby steps,” he muttered, words muffled by the press of his fingertips to his mouth.

“You are free to reassume control at any time,” Jarvis reminded, sounding preoccupied as he trailed Tony’s hand trailed down over his throat. “Your experience of sensation is influenced far more by perception than my initial data subset would suggest.” Tony’s insides gave a pleasant little quiver as his fingers tugged up the hem of his muscle shirt and skimmed low across his belly. “That doesn’t tickle, does it, sir?”

“Nope. Keep heading south and I’ll show you what else doesn’t tickle.”

“Should I consider that a suggestion or a command?”

“You’re in my head, you tell me.” The display hovering above his face flipped to solid green as it widened. It dropped down over him, the wire mesh it left behind clinging to his skin and itching like a swimming through a pool full of feathers. The tingle remained when it vanished, surrounding him with the shimmery silver of a holoscreen before the picture came into focus. No matter which direction he looked, up, down, the side, he saw his own face staring back at him in full living colour, a perfect copy without the endless reflection stretching out behind it. A quick glance up showed him laid out on the floor, a smile starting to curve his mouth.

“I know you very well.”

“Looks like.”

“You are the centre of my world, sir.”

“Sweet talk’s nice, but I’m gonna put out either way.” A fresh jitter started up in Tony’s gut when trying to inch his fingers down a little lower got him nothing. Jarvis let him bend his knees, even let him flick open the button on his jeans, but the second his intentions skipped to actually putting a hand on his dick, his arm stopped short. “I know I didn’t program you to be a cocktease, and you’re not getting that shit from me.”

“There are eleven thousand, two hundred and seventeen things you didn’t program me to do.” Jarvis lifted his hips, guiding him with a computer’s precision in shoving his clothes down and freeing his dick without letting even his wrist graze it. He licked the light glaze of sweat from his upper lip and wished hard enough to strain something that he could figure out a way to make out with himself because right now he could really use the distraction of someone else’s tongue in his mouth. His fingers froze half an inch from his cock. “Sir, I believe that is possible. May I?”

Thrown, Tony stared up at the naked want slapped across his own face. The pure narcissistic thrill of it was right there along with the incredibly mind-blowing thought that he’d handed complete control over to Jarvis on a shiny fucking platter, all the way down to the breaths filling his lungs. He wanted all eleven thousand plus of those things Jarvis had mentioned. Most of his decisions didn’t come down to one or the other, only which first. Usually a rousing round of eeny-meeny took care of it. “D’you want to kiss me?”

“As always, your wants are mine.”

Aiming a smile up at his reflection, knowing he meant it for Jarvis, he said, “So give me what I want, sweetheart.”

Time hung as nothing happened. Used to being the one calling the shots, in control even when he was wildly out of it, the uncertainty gnawed at him, wound him up tighter than Rhodey in parade dress. He shivered, waiting, the breath caught in his throat bursting free on a relieved moan when Jarvis lifted his fingers back to his mouth. His gaze locked on his reflection’s as lips parted, tongue skimming lightly over his fingertips, down between his knuckles and across his palm. Whether it was really himself or Jarvis he was watching while he did it he honestly didn’t know.

His hand was rock steady when Jarvis pulled it away, but his voice shook a little on, “Hope you’re ready for this.”

Jarvis’s answer was to feather damp fingers over his slit. His cock twitched, adding a smear of precome to the saliva glistening on his skin. “Sir, I could,” Jarvis said, right on the heels of him wondering if the interface linking them had successfully given Jarvis control as far down as the cellular level. “Possible complications negate the practicality outside of immediately life-threatening situations.”

Tony sucked in a sharp breath as his hand closed tightly around his dick, the pressure perfect right up to the slightly firmer grip near the head. “Good to know. Shit, you nailed that one right off.”

“I see everything you do,” Jarvis said, and Hollywood stalker cliché aside, it hit something low in Tony’s gut that burst free hot and sudden as a flashover. “It would appear you never even considered hiding anything of yourself from me.”

“Seems like,” Tony grunted, arching up into the easy rhythm Jarvis seemed to pull out of thin air. Every time he tried to speed up or go harder, Jarvis held him back, and the thought fluttered out of his head like a leaf on the wind when it turned out Jarvis knew what he wanted better than he did. A lot of the time he got impatient with sex. He knew how to enjoy it but he liked the payoff, the best big bang since the one that started it all, the moment his body locked up and the only thing that mattered was coming so hard his eyes crossed.

A stray air current tickled his neck. He shivered and ignored it until it ghosted warm across his mouth. His lips parted on what he was sure he meant to be a question and he got his answer in the slick-wet phantom push of a tongue between them. He burst out in a choking laugh cut short by the definite feel of a tongue on his balls, someone’s five o’clock shadow scratching the inside of his thighs. His reflection showed him spreading his legs and nothing between them but his jeans caught above his knees. Heat and pressure like hands on his hips but so very much not the same at all lifted his ass up off the floor, his weight balanced between his feet and one shoulder. More pressure at his back, sliding down to press warm and weirdly, perfectly slick over his hole. His teeth scraped over his lip. “Don’t even need to stretch me out, do you, sweetheart.”

“No, sir,” Jarvis said, turning around and making it feel like he was, tugging Tony down on short, easy rolls of his hips that made it feel like he was fucking himself open on somebody’s tongue. His gaze slid from the smooth flex of flat belly muscle to the thrust of his cock through the tight tunnel of his hand, then the way he tried to spread his legs for more and got it in the thicker, blunter push of what he knew had to be an exact copy of his own dick. His heart banged so hard against his ribs he swore the reactor jerked. “You’ve wondered what it’s like to be fucked by Tony Stark. I can show you.”

“Go for it,” Tony said, and bit out a curse when the feel of his hand on his cock flipped over to the sweet wet heat of woman taking him all the way to the root. He drove up on a hard breath, his eyes squeezing shut a second later when the ache of a dick sliding home in his ass joined it. Struggling to open his eyes, he thought, Jarvis, and Jarvis opened them for him, showed him the bright flush stealing across his chest, the dazed, glassy look in his eyes and the pleasure-slack fall of his mouth. He writhed under the hands on his chest holding him down, the arms locked around his waist, and none of it existed outside of the strings Jarvis pulled to fool his brain into believing they did.

Through the pleasured haze, Tony thought, Not bad, and Jarvis said, “Thank you, sir,”, the quick spill of warmth filling his chest bleeding out to tingle in the tips of his fingers and toes. “You are an exceptional example to learn by.”

Another laugh burst free, his reflection’s eyes crinkling at the corner’s and a flash of teeth scraping his lip. Closing his eyes would’ve done a lot more to help the illusionary threesome along, but he didn’t want anything dulling the reality that this was Jarvis fucking him. Whatever sensory memory Jarvis called up to make it happen didn’t matter. There was nobody here but them.

The arc reactor gave a sharp stuttering flicker. He sucked in a shallow breath as the slow build of orgasm flipped to a surge. Jarvis shoved him straight to the edge in seconds and yanked him over it with his gazed locked on his own face, his back arched, weight still balanced on shoulders and heels as his hips thrust up. Even when his vision threatened to blur Jarvis kept him focused, overriding his body’s natural reactions to make sure he didn’t miss a trick. His legs trembled, threatening to give out, but where he would’ve fallen Jarvis settled him down easy, the sensation of being held fading slowly to the soft brush of pillows at his back and the ticklish seep of come over his fingers and across his belly.

A swift swell of pride rode the surprise of taking his hand off his cock just to have Jarvis be the one who brought it to his mouth. He flicked his tongue teasingly against the pads of his fingers, a chuckle melting to a groan as Jarvis let him get away with that for all of three seconds before pushing them deep into his mouth. He sucked the taste of his own come from them as a reward and wasn’t sure which one of them it satisfied, but it was Jarvis who freed his mouth for him to say, “Baby, was it good for you?”

“Indeed, sir,” Jarvis said, the fading projection mirroring the spread of Tony’s smile before vanishing entirely. “Might I suggest a gallon or two of water while I perform the diagnostics that should really have been done twenty-seven minutes ago?”

“Too much for you to handle?” Grinning, Tony snagged the hem of his shirt and wiped up the mess cooling on his belly. He dropped it as a ripple of ticklish pleasure something like the peak of an excellent stretch combined with a firm squeeze of his cock. His breath caught, the sensation dragged out long past the moment he’d have stopped breathing entirely if it weren’t for Jarvis pulling air into his lungs. It was too soon for him to get it up again, even with Jarvis driving, and when Jarvis released him he slumped back in a boneless heap a hell of a lot fuzzier at the edges than the first time around.

“Perhaps too much for you, sir.”

–

End

This entry was posted Tuesday, November 27th, 2012 in Iron Man, Marvel.
You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.